


Of Past Regret and Future Fear

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Alternate Universe, Romance, Series: Nothing Lasts Forever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-08-04
Updated: 1999-08-04
Packaged: 2018-11-10 14:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11128935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Ben, Ray, Cat and Phil contemplate the paths their lives have taken This story is a sequel toStanding on the Edge.





	Of Past Regret and Future Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Of Past Regret and Future Fear

 

 

Disclaimer: This story is written for the private entertainment of fans.  
The author makes no claims on the characters or their portrayal by the  
creation of this story. Phil and TJ McKenzie belong to SL Haas and are  
used in this story with her permission. Cat Madden belongs to me. No  
infringement of any copyrights held by CBS, Alliance, CTV or any other  
copyright holders of DUE SOUTH is intended. This story is not published  
for profit, and the author does not give permission for this story to  
be reproduced for profit.  
  
Rated PG for swearing and adult situations - m/f and original character  
  
Lyrics from Razor's Edge by Goanna used without permission  
  
  
Of Past Regret and Future Fear  
  
By Carol Trendall  
  
  
  
Ben stared at his reflection in the mirror, mesmerised by the slow trickle  
of blood as it coursed its way down his throat. Slowly his eyes drifted  
from his likeness to the cutthroat razor in his right hand. For a moment  
he was caught up admiring the item the way you do when you gaze at something  
you have always owned as if you were seeing it for the first time. It  
was a beautifully crafted piece, he noticed, with a strong steel blade  
and a hand carved bone handle. It had been a gift from his grandfather  
on his sixteenth birthday and not intended, Ben knew, for the task he  
now contemplated.  
  
It could be so easy. Just a flick of the wrist and it would be over.  
  
Nervous now, he took a deep, steadying breath and wondered how this had  
happened. When did it happen? How had he lost control of his life in  
the two days since his return from his fruitless visit to Canada?  
  
The trickle of blood reached the hollow of his throat and it tickled.  
  
What was it Cat said to him at the airport? That he was on the edge  
of something? He gave an uncharacteristically bitter laugh and looked  
at the razor still clutched in his hand. He was on the edge all right.  
A razor's edge. From the depths of his memory came the words to a song  
he couldn't recall how he knew, 'living on a razor's edge, trying to  
touch the sun'.  
  
Had he tried to touch the sun? Cat had refused his marriage proposal  
once before. What had made him think she would accept this time? Now  
she wanted someone else � would probably marry someone else.  
  
In some perverse way a part of him was glad. A part of him relished  
this pain � this loneliness. It reminded him of things long past  
but still regretted. A sob escaped his tight lips and he squeezed his  
eyes shut so as not to see his reflection any more.  
  
With eyes closed and one hand gripping the basin for support, Ben tracked  
the flow of blood down his chest, feeling the wet trickle as softly as  
a lover's caress. He understood, now, why people did this � understood  
how a person could take their own life.  
  
If only he had acted earlier things would be different now. If only.  
 _If only a lot of things were different_ , Ben thought bitterly,  
his mind suddenly filled with the smiling face of Phil McKenzie. It  
was easy to admit it now. That was his biggest regret. _If only_ ,  
he thought once more before opening his eyes again to gaze at his pale  
reflection.  
  
The haunted eyes that stared back at him made him jump. Once more he  
tilted his head to look at the cutthroat razor still held firmly in his  
right hand. Slowly he uncurled his fingers from the bone handle and  
laid the razor to rest on the basin. Gripping the cracked enamel basin  
edge with both hands now, he leaned forward so that his image in the  
mirror loomed large. He made his decision.  
  
He stepped back and reached again for the razor, then rinsed it under  
the running tap and folded it closed. Reaching for a towel he wiped  
away the blood from his chest and throat, then rinsed away the remnants  
of shaving cream. Leaning close to the mirror again, he inspected the  
wound just below his right ear. He shook his head, wondering why shaving  
cuts bled so much. It was only a small nick.  
  
He left the bathroom, cutthroat razor held respectfully in his hand,  
ready to be returned to the depths of his father's trunk. He would buy  
a safety razor before his next shave. Ben feared that he would not be  
so rational in future.  
  
  
  
Bathed in the winter sunlight streaming through the window, Cat carefully  
laid photographs one by one on the floor in front of her as if she was  
playing solitaire, smiling at the memories contained in each one. It  
was a secret pleasure to do this, to choose new images to add to her  
wall of photos and she waited until she had time to do it leisurely.  
Her choices were important.  
  
Kneeling on the sun-warmed moss green carpet of her living room she shuffled  
the pictures around, eventually separating them into three piles; yes,  
no and maybe. Wearing a frown of concentration she sat back and considered  
her choices, staring at the piles for a minute or so, occasionally moving  
a photo from one group to another. With her decision made, she picked  
up the smallest pile of photos and rose to her feet, a smile of satisfaction  
adorning her face. This time she would add five pictures to her wall.  
  
With her selection in hand, Cat mounted the stairs and sat down halfway  
up. This next step in the process was as equally important as the pictures  
themselves � deciding where best to place the new additions. Leaning  
back, she ran her eyes over the pictures on the wall. She realised some  
of them had been there so long that she barely noticed them any more.  
  
Immediately her eyes went to the trio of pictures that had prompted the  
picture wall almost twenty years earlier, and now made up the centre  
of the collection. The photos were faded now, but she focussed on them,  
as if seeing them for the first time. Sadly, they were the only surviving  
pictures of her parents. How she regretted not taking more photos of  
them.  
  
When her parents died, Cat promised herself she would never again feel  
that regret, never again miss an opportunity, and the wall she now contemplated  
was testimony to the fact that she had honoured that promise. She returned  
her attention to the pictures in her hand. These five pictures were  
the only ones from her Christmas vacation that she would add to the wall.  
  
The top picture on the pile was one of Phil and the rest of the McKenzie  
clan, taken at Rob and Beth's house on Christmas day. Cat wasn't sure  
why she chose that particular, somewhat unremarkable shot, but there  
it was and she wasn't about to change her mind now. It was almost as  
if it was predestined � as though it had leapt out of the pack and  
demanded to be included. She followed her instincts; she had never regretted  
it in the past. She looked at the next photo.  
  
Cat knew exactly why she chose the next picture. It was of Ray eating  
breakfast, taken two days after they became lovers. In the photo he  
looked happy and relaxed, a contented smile lighting his face. It was  
a smile that spoke of friendship, respect, and all the things he and  
Cat had learned about each other during the days they were stuck in the  
Vecchio house. Its presence on her wall would remind her never again  
to take people at face value. Did she regret her time with Ray? Not  
for one minute. Cat smiled, her mind full of happy recollections as  
she shuffled the picture to the back of the pile and revealed the next.  
  
She took the next picture in the park as she and Ben had walked on New  
Years Day. It was the pain in his eyes that made her single it out �  
pain she had not noticed at the time _. 'How long has the pain been  
there?'_ she wondered as she contemplated the eyes she knew so very  
well. Although Ben smiled dutifully for the camera, it didn't make it  
to his eyes and Cat knew as she gazed at the picture in her hand that  
he hadn't even tried to fake it, as he must have in the past. Guilt  
gripped her heart. _Have I caused this hurt?_ she wondered.  
  
Did she regret turning down his proposal? No. She hadn't regretted  
it the first time he asked and she didn't regret it this time. They  
were not destined to be together. She knew it then and she knew it now.  
They would have made a happy enough life together had they married but  
she knew, now even more so, that neither of them would ever have really  
reached their full potential. Now she had tasted true love there would  
be no other for her, as she knew there could be no other for Ben than  
Phil. She glanced once more at Ben's sad eyes and worried for his future.  
She knew the pain would not leave his eyes any time soon.  
  
Strangely or maybe not, Cat thought, the next picture in the pile was  
of Lloyd. She knew it to be the first of many on her wall. She had  
taken this shot as Lloyd put his boots on one morning. Something about  
the way he smiled at her as he performed this every day task made Cat  
feel more cherished than she ever thought possible. Smiling indulgently,  
she wondered how this man had captured her heart in so short a space  
of time when so many others had been unable to do so. And there were  
many others.  
  
She raised her eyes to once again take in the photos on her wall �  
so many of them of men from her past. Did she regret her past lovers?  
No. Not Ben, nor Ray, nor TJ McKenzie nor Jimmy Sunsinger. Not even  
Nick Benton, the brash Australian who burst into her life and refused  
to take no for an answer. All of them were important in their own way.  
All of them taught her what she needed to know to recognise true love  
when it arrived. No, she did not regret her past lovers.  
  
She did have regrets, of course, but they were simple things, like the  
regrets everyone had. Things like not being a better daughter, or not  
telling the truth about how her mother's favourite vase got broken, or  
not studying harder at school � regrets that made her what she now  
was. Like Ben's regrets made him what he now was, Cat realised, somewhat  
sadly. The thought made her worry for him even more.  
  
Cat sighed and looked down at the final picture in her hand. It was  
of her. It would be the first picture of Cat alone. There were others  
on the wall, of course, but always taken with someone else. There were  
many with Ben, with her parents, with colleagues and friends, but no  
other in which she was alone. Why was this one different?  
  
This photo showed the new Cat Madden. The difference was subtle, Cat  
herself hadn't been aware of it until Ben pointed it out. But she could  
see it now � the softness in her smile, the contentment in her eyes  
and the peace in the way she held herself. Not for the first time, she  
marvelled at the happiness Lloyd brought her. She only wished she could  
talk to Ben about it.  
  
Cat realised she did have one regret � that she could not share  
her love with her oldest friend as he had shared with her his love for  
Phil McKenzie all those years ago. How she regretted that Ben could  
not be part of what was happening to her. As that thought formed in  
her head, deeper inside something else formed.  
  
Fear.  
  
Slowly it uncurled in the pit of her stomach and reached out to clutch  
at her heart, causing her to gasp out loud and lift her hand to her throat.  
With shaking hands, Cat shuffled through the photos until she found the  
two she wanted. Discarding the rest, she held the picture of Ben in  
one hand and the picture of Lloyd in the other. Glancing between them,  
Cat realised her fear was two fold.  
  
Fixing her gaze on Ben's cold, hurt eyes Cat realised that for the first  
time she could not help him. For the first time since they had met,  
he had shut her out. She feared for his future.  
  
But what about her own future? Her gaze slipped to Lloyd's warm smile  
and she was comforted. This was her future and she looked forward to  
it - but not without fear.  
  
  
  
The box was heavy in Phil's hands as she carried it towards the living  
room. Or was it only the weight of her memories assailing her as she  
held Ben's memorabilia box for the last time? She could not say. All  
she knew for sure was that now, at last, was her chance to be rid of  
it for good. TJ was coming over and she would ask him to take it when  
he left - take it out of her life for good. That was her only choice  
now.  
  
Had the box always been so heavy? She couldn't say for certain. It  
had been a long time since she had held it like this; it's slick steel  
coldness burning her fingers like a white-hot brand. When she had last  
opened it, only a few days earlier, she had simply lifted the lid and  
slipped the envelope Cat had given her inside.  
  
Perhaps it had always weighed this much. Her memories alone were enough  
to fill a room - a building - her life - so why should she expect these  
physical reminders of Ben Fraser's presence in her life to be lightweight?  
She would be glad to be rid of it.  
  
So why didn't she just toss it into the trash? Why must she ask her  
brother to take it away for her? Was she afraid of relegating Ben's  
memory to a waste pile somewhere? Phil had no answer. She only knew  
that the time had come to let go of her past and embrace a new future  
� a future that would include Martin Stevenson.  
  
Feeling a mixture of sadness and relief, Phil set the box on top of her  
newly bare piano, taking care to set it on a woven Navajo rug, then turned  
her attention to her hands. It felt as though the box was still pressing  
its weight into her fingers and for a moment she wondered if the feeling  
would ever leave her. _Just like the love I feel for Ben_ , she  
mused sadly.  
  
Slowly she returned her gaze to the piano and the box resting atop it.  
Since Martin had helped her move her collection of photos to the dining  
room wall, the top of the piano had been unused. Now it looked like  
an altar bearing some special item of worship, Phil realised with something  
approaching fear. Faintly unsettled by her thoughts, she turned her  
back, anxiously scanning the room for some task as a distraction.  
  
But Phil was unable to completely ignore the box. As if afraid, she  
sneaked a glance over her shoulder at the offending item, almost expecting  
it to spring to life like something out of a William S Burroughs novel.  
She giggled nervously and spared a brief thought for her sanity, before  
turning away once more.  
  
Two steps were all she managed before turning around again. It was as  
though the wretched box called to her, taunting her, daring her to inspect  
its contents. Without knowing how she got there, she found herself standing  
in front of the piano reaching for the box and digging in her pocket  
for the key she had carried from her jewel box.  
  
Why torture herself with a final look? Without even trying to conjure  
up an answer, Phil gripped the blanket and dragged the box toward her,  
unlocked it, then lifted the lid. As she reached inside, she found it  
suddenly easy to justify her actions. After all, she was just checking  
to make sure there were no valuables - wasn't she?  
  
She pulled out the first item, a pen and ink sketch that Ben had given  
her so long ago, and put it aside quickly, not wanting to read the inscription  
she knew by heart, 'Thunder Basin - you saved my life, I lost my heart'.  
Some bitter part of Phil's mind wondered if Ben had said something similar  
to Victoria up on the mountain that fateful day. Shaking her head, she  
pulled more things from the box.  
  
The next item was a stuffed wolf, more poignant now that she knew Ben  
had a lupine companion. She set it aside and soon the Mountie doll and  
Canadian flag she couldn't bring herself to look at too closely joined  
it. These icons of Canadian culture were forever burned into her psyche  
as connections to Ben and they still made her uncomfortable.  
  
Pushing her thoughts aside she continued, this time bringing out a pair  
of crystal hummingbirds wrapped in an old Irish linen tea towel. She  
smiled as she unwrapped the figurines, recalling Ben's reaction to the  
tattoo on her left hip. He had been startled, even shocked at first,  
but later was unable to keep from touching or kissing it.  
  
Before the memories overwhelmed her she set the figurines down and reached  
for another, equally fragile parcel � a pair of porcelain columbines  
wrapped in a worn black RCMP t-shirt that had faded to a dark grey.   
She could still recall unwrapping them the day Ben gave them to her.  
But they weren't the only columbines he gave her.  
  
Phil peered into the box for the other set, these a watercolour Ben had  
bought her at a flea market one sunny spring afternoon. One sunny spring  
afternoon when he still loved her. A lump rose in Phil's throat and  
she lifted a hand to her mouth, stifling a small sob, pausing momentarily  
before continuing.  
  
The next item, too, was painful and Phil almost did not look at it.   
It was the plaque she and Ben had won in a talent contest, the plaque  
they had won for singing a love song. Slowly she ran her fingers over  
the lettering on the front, remembering that night and, for the briefest  
moment, she was almost happy.  
  
The remaining items were the things that Phil knew would cause the most  
pain. There was nothing other than these items in the box � she  
could see that. Why then was she compelled to pull each of them out  
and take that final peek? Why subject herself to the agony? Why did  
she feel the need to expose herself to her past? Was it to reassure  
herself she had no regrets?  
  
Did she regret her relationship with Ben Fraser? A part of her screamed  
yes, she wished she had never laid eyes on him. But one part of her  
said no, for he had given her a beautiful daughter � even if it  
was for such a short time. No, she had no regrets about that.  
  
That thought gave her the courage to look at the final items - a collection  
of pictures of Ben, the many letters he had sent her during their engagement  
and, of course, the letters penned by her own hand that Ben had returned  
unopened. These were the very letters in which she had told him of her  
pregnancy, the letter that told Ben that he was to become a father.   
Letters that he never read containing news he never received.  
  
Did she regret bringing her child into the world without a father? No.  
Lindy's short life had brought immense joy to Phil and she would do it  
all again if she could hold her baby in her arms. Her only regret about  
that part of her life was that Ben had not been there to share it with  
her - that he had never seen the light of Lindy's smile. As she reached  
for the miniature stetson that Lindy had held in the photo she now carried  
in her wallet, Phil felt a stab of pain for all that Ben had missed.  
Yes, she did regret something - not going after Ben and telling him of  
the child she carried.  
  
The final two items were recent additions to the box and both of them  
brought to her by Cat Madden. The black notebook that had been passed  
from Bob to Cat and now to Phil weighed heavy in her hands as she laid  
it on the piano, remembering the night Cat had given it to her. Phil  
smiled as she visualised the petite dynamo who seemed to have forged  
a place in her life. There was a brief time when that friendship seemed  
too close for comfort, but Cat had stopped bringing Ben up every time  
they spoke. _Probably a good thing_ , Phil mused to herself as she  
reached for the envelope that could possibly change her life - the envelope  
containing Ben's address.  
  
Not too long ago she would have considered opening it, considered going  
to the man who had once held her heart in his hand. But now she had  
someone else and she only wanted to think about what was to come. A  
bitter laugh left Phil's throat. At one time she had looked forward  
to a future with Ben and Lindy. Then it was taken from her. Now she  
looked forward to a new future with Martin Stevenson.  
  
So why did that frighten her so? Wasn't her future neatly mapped out?  
She knew it would not be long before Martin would ask her to marry him  
\- and she would accept despite her fear.  
  
Fear? The realisation that she was terrified hit her suddenly and Phil  
found herself stumbling backwards to the sofa, her hand pressed against  
her racing heart. Some small part of her mind that could still find  
humour imagined a light bulb going on over her head as she realised there  
were three sides to her fear.  
  
A small, unspoken thought in the back of her mind made her wonder if  
Martin would leave, as Ben had all those years ago. Another, equally  
hidden part of her mind worried that this was her last chance at love.  
But the most frightening part was at the forefront of her thoughts -  
that she was considering marrying the wrong man. But there was no reason  
to fear for her future - was there?  
  
  
  
Ray tapped nervously on the steering wheel, willing the traffic to move  
more quickly. He checked his watch; he would only be a few minutes late  
getting to Fraser's apartment. Ever since Fraser had returned from Canada  
two days earlier he had worried about leaving him alone for too long.  
He had no way of knowing how much Cat's refusal of the Mountie's proposal  
had affected him. As in control as the man seemed to be, Ray knew that  
still waters ran deep and he had been a cop too long to believe in the  
facade his friend presented him.  
  
But the thing that gave Ray most cause to be concerned for his friend  
was, in fact, his own state of mind, for he understood Fraser's pain.  
He knew what it was like to have dreams shattered and he knew that if  
the Mountie was suffering as he had suffered � still suffered �  
then there was due cause to be worried for his well being. Ray wondered  
if Fraser would be able to live with the pain, as he did, or would it  
always be a constant reminder of actions past and now regretted? Ray's  
mind went rushing to his own past, but still regretted, actions. Actions  
he rarely let himself think about these days.  
  
He sighed as he found his thoughts drift to Casey Sinclair. As always,  
he justified to himself his reasons for walking away from Casey's hospital  
bed that day. As always, he felt the frustration and anger well up from  
the depths of his soul. He slapped an open palm against the steering  
wheel. _Why do I keep doing this?_ he demanded.  
  
His eyes filled with tears and he was glad for the heavy traffic, glad  
not to have to be in control of a moving vehicle. A wave of grief him  
hit him like a blow and he leaned his head forward onto the steering  
wheel, suddenly made breathless by his pain and regret.  
  
A short, angry horn blast from the car behind made Ray's head jerk up.  
His vision cleared enough to see that the traffic was once again moving.  
He took the opportunity to manoeuvre the Riviera into the first available  
space before resting his head on the steering wheel again and letting  
his grief take over. The tears that had previously only filled his eyes  
now ran freely down his cheeks and dripped unceremoniously onto his knees.  
He cried for long minutes, gulping air into his lungs and letting it  
out again in harsh, guttural sobs.  
  
Somewhere in the midst of his emotional release, Ray had an epiphany.  
For many months he had told himself he had done the right thing in leaving  
Casey and he had almost believed it. But now, sitting in his car in  
the worst suburb in Chicago, he knew he had lied. He knew it to be the  
biggest mistake he had ever made and, at that moment, he regretted it  
to the depths of his being.  
  
Head filled with this new knowledge, Ray raised red-rimmed eyes and stared  
at his surroundings. On the sidewalk not ten yards away a hooker turned  
tricks and immediately in front of him a drug deal was going down, but  
for now Ray had no regrets about foregoing his duty. His mind was elsewhere,  
thinking about the many things he did regret; fighting with his sisters,  
fibbing to his mother when he was a teenager, not being a better husband  
to Angie, shooting Fraser � but at the top of the list was walking  
away from Casey Sinclair.  
  
For the first time he allowed himself to think about the consequences  
of his actions. For the first time he thought beyond his own feelings.  
For the first time he thought about how Casey must feel. Now there was  
another regret topping his list.  
  
It scared him. For long minutes Ray sat open-mouthed staring at yet  
not seeing the world outside the Riv as a ball of dread unfurled in his  
belly. The longer he sat, the more his terror grew. He wasn't sure  
what he was afraid of, all he knew was that the fear had been dormant  
in him for a long, long time and now it was beginning to awaken. Slowly,  
the cold tendrils of panic worked their way through him until they clutched  
at his heart, gripping it firmly and causing him to gasp aloud in pain.  
  
Was this to be his life? Was this his destiny? Was this what he could  
look forward to? And it wasn't just his own life he was frightened for,  
he feared for Fraser's future as well. With his heart pounding from  
adrenalin, Ray turned the ignition key and the Riv roared into life.  
  
He needed to get to Fraser and tell him about this, tell him about the  
things in his past that he regretted. He needed to make the Mountie  
talk about his past � make him talk about the things he, too, regretted.  
Ray feared that if he didn't, neither of them would have much of a future.  
  
  
All comments welcome at  
  
 ****Nothing Lasts Forever (Book 2 of the Ben and Phil Saga)  
  
1.Nothing Lasts Forever  
2.Of Second Chances by Carol Trendall  
3.Winter in America is Cold by Carol Trendall  
4.Lavender Memories  
5.Distractions by Carol Trendall  
6.No Aphrodisiac by Carol Trendall  
7.Life's Insanity by Carol Trendall  
8.Standing on the Edge by Carol Trendall  
9.Of Past Regret and Future Fear by Carol Trendall  
10.A Summoning of Things Past  
11.Three Parts Dead  
12.A Job Well Done  
13.Touchstones of Character  
14.But For the Night  
15.Tangled Webs  
16.Suspicions  
17.Chasms of the Mind (with Carol Trendall)  
18.Outskirts by Carol Trendall  
  
  
  



End file.
